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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195517">friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0wlets/pseuds/r0wlets'>r0wlets</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tales of Crestoria, Tales of Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chapter 5 Spoilers, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2021, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:14:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0wlets/pseuds/r0wlets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuna wished she could give her best friend the world, but instead all she could do was run lines with her. Oneshot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Yuna Azetta/Penelope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wanted to make this a nice fluffy lesbian piece and instead i made myself fucking sad at 4am so cresty tag also has to suffer. </p>
<p>poem referenced is “Polarities” by Kenneth Siessor. c: maybe i'll do more fics inspired by quotes again idk i just want this pairing to be appreciated more :(</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Centerport was a small but lively seaside town. Everybody knew everybody somehow, and the townspeople made their livings through constant festivals, market trading, and various shipping and fishing businesses. They prided themselves in the fact that they were such a tight-knit community that the only secrets they sought were that of strangers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yuna chomped at her sub sandwich thoughtfully, swinging her bare legs back and forth against the pier. Centerport was a town of secrets, all right, but not in the way most townspeople thought. They held small secrets anyone would gossip over - white lies, not-so-obvious crushes, dramatic breakups. They would never pour out the true darkness within their hearts, risking the wrath of the Enforcers - affairs, divorces, drug deals, blackmails…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Murder….</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lesbians.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yuna took another bite. As corrupt as the world was, she was still convinced the town would hang her for dating men more than they would for committing murder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yunaaaa~ don't tell me you're eating my sandwich again!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her head perked up. Waving to her was a petite girl hidden by her fashionable shawl and sunglasses. When she sat next to her, Yuna placed her own sandwich in her lap and handed the girl a fresh one. “It looked so good, too,” she said, gazing at the second sub longingly. “How was your morning shoot, Penelope darling?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penelope leaned back, the sunlight reflecting back to make her chestnut hair more vibrant. She was always the pretty one, the talented one; Yuna always admired her work ethic as well. She always brushed the praise off, though, and today was no exception. “Not my best,” she admitted, taking a tiny bite out of ham and cheese. “I feel like I flubbed a few lines and I wasn’t connecting very well with the co-lead. I’m gonna have to work myself back up to speed before later this afternoon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, don’t push yourself too hard. Your partner should be working just as hard as you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, but then I wouldn’t be working to be the best. The best actor should be able to work with anyone, no matter how talented they are, ri- ow!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A fist softly tapped Penelope on the head. She rubbed the sore spot and pouted while Yuna chuckled, wagging her finger in the air. “Hey, you’ve only got one life to live,” she scolded. “Don’t work yourself to death either.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They looked at each other for a minute. Penelope’s usual businessperson facade melted into that of a normal, lovesick teenager pleading innocent to taking the last cookie out of a cookie jar. Her sunglasses were down far enough on her nose to reveal the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Yuna raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll kiss it better, won’t you, Yunie?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Eat your sandwich. Three meals a day are important for growing bodies.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penelope puffed out her cheeks but took another bite. Without hesitation, Yuna leaned over and stroked the top of her head, humming as she kissed the spot where she hit the girl. Her hair smelled like strawberries. It reminded Yuna of youth long past, of endless days of playing around in the forest, swimming in the lake, watching plays, braiding hair…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get out of the house you fucking dyke!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Were they ever really children? Childhood felt like a distant nightmare. Yuna could discard her own family background easily, but she would never forget what she did to Penelope’s family. Never would </span>
  <em>
    <span>forgive</span>
  </em>
  <span> herself for what she did to Penelope. Even if Penelope forgave her a million, billion times for what happened to her mother, Yuna would always shoulder her greatest sin and continue to pursue the truth, no matter how terrible it was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And this world was so unforgiving. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yunie?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I asked if you wanted to run some lines for me once we finished eating?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. What are friends for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Friends. Penelope was already a perfect actor, for allowing Yuna to remain in her life, as a friend even. Yuna’s parents weren’t perfect in the least, but if Penelope had turned one of them over to her vision orb as she had, would she have done the same? Yuna couldn’t say with confidence that she could. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All she could do was hold onto this cherished friendship, and not ask for more, until the time came and Penelope cut ties from her once and for all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Since Penelope was a well-known and adored actor in Centerport, they often hung out in a small church near the outskirts of town. Most of the townspeople preferred going to the bigger, flashier church with stronger condemnations and fake healings, so the smaller church mostly held a couple of older priests who kept their noses out of the town’s business. Faith was first, and so they should answer to Kasque first and mortals second.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they stepped into the chapel, they bowed to the priest and Penelope placed a generous offering into the tithe box. Self-conscious about her exposed chest, Yuna wrapped her jacket over the top. The priests were kind enough, but she still wanted to be modest enough in such a holy setting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ceilings glittered dozens of colors from the stained glass windows. She wasn’t the most religious person in the world, but Yuna still felt at peace, comforted by the religious imagery that the windows reflected as she and Penelope began rehearsing lines. She wondered if Kasque was more merciful upon sinners than the enforcers who punished them, and knowing that the truth was often uglier than reality, she refused, just this once, to accept it. Yuna wasn’t an actor, but for Penelope, she would act her heart away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Sometimes she moves like rivers, sometimes like trees; Or tranced and fixed like South Pole silences,’” Yuna read, projecting her voice as loud as she could. “‘Sometimes she is beauty, sometimes fury, sometimes neither. Sometimes nothing, drained of meaning, null as water.’”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You think you’re too good for us? You think you’re better than us just because you read and write a lot? You’re just a dumb dyke with a big chest! Why don’t you get out of the house and </span>
  </em>
  <span>do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something for us?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Sometimes, when she makes me pea-soup or plays me Schumann, I love her one way; sometimes I love her another.’”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yunie, please don’t go. Oh, please, please, please. I just need to go over this line one more time.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But your mother would want you to go to bed by now wouldn’t….she.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, Mom’s not here now, right?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Love. What did love feel like? Did it feel like when Yuna’s parents berated her, screamed and belittled every aspect of her until she decided to move out on her own and the townspeople believed their story, that she was an airheaded, gossipy teenager whose only goal was to work on the tabloids? Or did it feel like when she prayed into her vision orb for Penelope’s mother to be punished, not realizing the depths the consequences would hold? Or did it feel like when she laid in bed at night, wishing that she could forgive herself for her sins, so that one day she could hold her best friend in her arms in that same bed? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yuna was quiet for a long moment, silently rereading the final lines of Siessor’s poem. The character Penelope was playing was a headstrong woman, but in contrast the real Penelope was so sweet, so fragile. She gave everything to make everyone happy, no matter how much the world betrayed her in return. Her illness, too, was growing worse as the years passed, and despite modern medicine, one day it would take her life too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up at the stone statue of Kasque, Yuna took the words to heart, feeling that they spoke of her as much as they did the actor whom she was substituting. “‘Sometimes I don’t like her at all,’” she finished.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She inhaled and waited as Penelope recited her counter poem. By the end of their practice, Yuna was in tears by the brilliant performance her friend gave in comparison to her. If she could draw out this much emotion in a rehearsal, Yuna couldn’t imagine a dry eye on opening night. When Penelope let out a slow, shaky breath,though, she went back into protective mode, unconsciously wrapping an arm around the smaller girl’s shoulders. “Do you need to sit down, Penelope?” she asked. “We’ve gone through this enough times, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, I’m fine. Again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, I think you should rest-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Penelope reached for Yuna’s hands and squeezed them, bringing them to her lips as she kissed them. Her lips were as soft as ever. “I need to do this until I’m convinced you mean it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mean what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes I don’t like her at all.’”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Penelope…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do it again and again until you hate me, okay?” Penelope requested with a small smile on her face. “And then one more time, for good measure.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yuna frowned but nodded. She hated that smile, more than anything, because it was the only thing that drove her through life. And once it was gone, she would hate herself for not saying the simplest words to her friend, the ones that conveyed love rather than friendship.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wiping the tears from her face, she steeled her heart and recited the lines again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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